


Imperfect Phoenix

by deeblink



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeblink/pseuds/deeblink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick suffers in the aftermath of his abduction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfect Phoenix

Imperfect Phoenix

Prologue

Grissom was moving deftly around the underground bunker room of an (apparent) cult leader. He could smell the stench of death from the bodies of the young people in the adjacent, larger chamber. Catherine was with him and they were making a preliminary examination of the scene.

“I hope the others get here quickly.” Catherine mused at the thought of all the work that needed to be done.

“Yes.”

They continued in silence; both concentrating on their job.

Suddenly, Gil stood up straight. “Catherine, is Nick coming?”

“Yeah, I bet he’s here already.”

“Shit.” With the expletive uttered, Gil left the room; as fast as she’d ever seen him move, to Catherine’s astonishment.

He ran out into the corridor and made his way to the staircase, intending to run up to ground level. But Nick had beaten him to it, he was just making his way down the last few steps of the staircase and Gil met him as reached the bottom. They were almost head to head.

“Nick…you okay?” Gil spoke very quietly but emphasised his concern by placing his hands, gently, on Nick’s upper arms. 

Nick glanced at one of the hands and shrugged himself loose of their grip, such as it was. Gil’s arms fell to his side.

“I’m fine Gris; I’m fine, leave it.” Nick hissed his words out to Gil, also very quietly, so that police officers close by couldn’t hear.

“I’m just concerned; underground. But if you’re okay, then that’s good…” Gil leaned towards Nick and he was surprised that Nick leaned back avoiding any closer contact than they already had, but he still spoke to Nick. “…just wanted to make sure, Nick.”

“Look, we’re at work, leave it, will you?” And with that Nick moved past Gil and into the large chamber.

Gil remained still. He was absolutely sure that no one had heard him speak to Nick; there was no one close enough to see much in the dim lighting. But, nevertheless, he felt his gut clench in an all too familiar feeling. Nick had become…different. He shook himself to bring himself back to the job. He had work to do; they all had a great deal of work to get through. This would have to wait, again. But he would do something; he’d have to do something…eventually.

The story – days later

Gil was at home. Nick was at the gym.

Their home. It had been their very happy home until four months ago. How quickly and how easily things change. Gil sat on their deck nursing a coffee, long since cold. He had to do this today. He had to try and sort out the mess they’d become. Nick, he thought, needed some more therapy. Perhaps more intensive therapy. He looked almost the same, and at work acted almost the same. Almost. But with Gil, his lover, his partner of four years, there had been such a fundamental shift in the relationship that Gil began to think that pre-abducted Nick no longer existed. That Walter Gordon had blown himself up and taken Nick along with him for the ride. From the ashes had arisen the new phoenix. The new Nick Stokes. An imperfect phoenix.

Gil knew it wasn’t that simple. He knew that it hadn’t been that long, but it was Nick’s choice to move on so quickly, to put as much distance as he could between that twenty-four hours and the rest of his life. But, to Gil, the speed of his recovery had been surreal. That a man, no, not any man, Nick specifically, could recover so quickly; to revert to what he was, seemed too good to be true.

Perhaps it was that. This was reality now, and their previous life was the part that was too good to be true. 

Gil had supported Nick as much as he could. He’d really tried but it wasn’t his natural behavioural pattern. His way would be exactly what Nick was doing. Bite the bullet; get on with it. For him it would work. But that was not Nick’s way. Nick was mercurial; in private, for that was when the displays were most telling, Gil loved the way Nick could bounce his emotions and moods around a room. One moment laughing, one moment crying, at a film, a book. One moment coy and sensual, another moment demanding and predatory.

That was his Nick, his love. 

Work Nick was straightforward and sensible. Dependable. He’d become more level headed as he’d matured.

When Nick was incarcerated he’d had his private life and he’d had his work life. When he was hauled from the coffin twenty–four later, Nick’s life had become blurred. Realities were no longer the same. He was still (mostly) straightforward at work. Mostly dependable and level headed. Mostly.

But at home, in their previously happy little cocoon, mercurial Nick had become ultra- sensitive to ever remark, every nuance, every look, every breath he took; that Gil took. Gil was certain he couldn’t live in the atmosphere for much longer. It was palpable; which if it wasn’t so serious would make him laugh out loud. When had he ever been susceptible to moods and atmospheres? Never, that’s when. But he now understood, fully, the term, ’you could cut the atmosphere with a knife’, because that was an accurate description.

Nick must be feeling the same way, Gil was sure. But Nick wasn’t able, despite the closeness of their previous relationship, to trust himself to fall, to let go and allow Gil to catch him. But the time had come…it was overdue…Gil had to do something…

Gil’s coffee was undrinkable and he stood to return to the house to get a fresh mug. As he walked through the patio doors, Nick walked through their front door.

“Hey, Nick. How did the work-out go?”

“Same old, same old.” Nick shrugged; he remained standing in the middle of the room, still holding his sports bag. 

He sounded and looked ‘lost’; it was the only adjective Gil could think of, and probably the most accurate, for all its simplicity.

“Nick. We need to talk…”

“…I’m done talking…”

“…NO…no, Nick, you’re not. We have to straighten this out. You must, you need, you must try to see what’s happening to you…”

“…nothing’s ‘happening’ to me. It ‘happened’ to me and it’s over and I want it to be over, so it is.”

“It’s not that simple Nick, and you know…”

“…IT IS. It is that simple. I want it to be over now and forever. I don’t want to acknowledge it any more. It happened. It’s over. Move on.” 

“Oh God. Please see that you can’t…”

“…I can…and I have, Gil, you must come to terms with that. I have the before part and the now part, but that middle part never happened. I will not allow it to have happened.”

This was the most detailed information Gil had elicited from Nick about how he felt since the first days in the hospital, when both of them had been nearly out of their minds with worry…for the same reason, but from different perspectives.

Gil took a deep breath. “It did happen. It did and you must…we, must, come to terms with it for us to move on…”

“…maybe I don’t want us to move on.”

Gil gasped in a breath and actually looked down at his chest, fully expecting to see a dagger buried deep in him inflicting the pain he felt in his chest…his heart; he was almost surprised not to see it there. This was it. It was over. He’d made the same promise to himself, many times, that if Nick wanted out, he’d let him go. He wouldn’t try, pathetically, to grasp at straws. It was his pride at stake. Nick was an adult; he would know if he wanted the relationship and if he didn’t, well Gil wouldn’t hold him back. No regrets. Move on.

“If…if that’s what you want.”

“I want it never to have happened; I don’t want to have anything to move on from.”

“Is it me? Do I remind you that it happened? Is that what it is?”

“No. Yes. You won’t let it go, won’t let me let it go. Fussing around me at work. Reminding me. Wanting to talk about it at home. Reminding me. It’s over. I want to move on.”

“I remind you. I won’t pretend that I think you’re wrong Nick. But, I cannot change how you think. I don’t have that in my power. I do think you need to…explore…this; you need some…help…I can’t give it…”

“…NO ONE can give it…don’t you fucking see…I don’t want it to have happened. The more I talk about it the more real it becomes and I will be lost Gil…I will be lost and I’ll never find my way back. Never. Never.” Nick’s shouting gradually became a whisper as he finished.

“Nick. You will. I promise you, you will. But, this way…yes, you will be lost. You have to face up to it, Nick. You have to. For you…for you.” He wanted to say, desperately, for us, but he wasn’t that certain whether there would be an us. 

“No. No.”

With that same word uttered twice, Nick dropped the sports bag he’d still been holding, turned around and walked out of the house. Not fast and furiously, but calmly, with measured steps. He didn’t look back and he closed the door behind him.

Follow him. Follow him. Gil’s heart screamed.

Let him go. Let him go. Gil’s head reasoned.

His head won. It mostly did; even with Nick.

Gil stood still for some minutes still holding the mug of cold coffee. He looked down at it and the irony of the sight of the coffee was not lost on him. Cold. Of no use. Waiting to be thrown away.

He went through to the kitchen and threw the coffee down the sink. He put the mug in the sink and then leaned on the counter, watching the last dregs of the coffee slip silently down the drain. He looked up, away from the sight, and tried a wry smile that, in fact, turned out as a grimace. 

What the fuck, exactly, was he going to do? He had no idea. Wait it out. He was dog tired; he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in four months. He’d just learned to live with exhaustion. As he’d learn to live without Nick.

Could he have done things differently? Of course he could. What? He didn’t know. He would have done them, if he’d known.

Nick had had therapy and whatever he’d said and done had caused the shrink to authorise his return to work. Gil had offered to go with him to therapy. No. Not allowed.

He had tried to talk to Nick, but today was the most telling information he’d elicited from Nick, since it happened. Or, didn’t happen. He was no good at talking, he knew that; he became tongue tied and exasperated at his own inadequacies. Nick knew that about him; it was always the case. But Nick would talk and ask questions and Gil would be able to open a discourse and they would have a talk. Except that Nick wouldn’t talk about it. And Gil couldn’t.

Gil supposed he’d wait it out. He cleared the kitchen, although there was no mess. He tidied the living room, although it was tidy. He saw the sports bag and stared at for a few moments. He then walked over and retrieved it; if he’d been asked, on oath, he would have said he intended to empty it out. Put the dirty washing in the laundry basket; store the shoes and then Nick’s famous products. For his hair, his body. But, when Gil started to attempt these simple tasks, in their bedroom, he couldn’t move past the first item he removed from the bag. 

A tee shirt. 

Rolled up, still damp from Nick’s sweat. He lifted it to his nose and it was overwhelming. He had a keen sense of smell, honed for his job. This was Nick; Nick when he sweated. Nick when they made love; when they fucked. When they were together, side by side. Before.

Gil inhaled deeply and remembered the last time they’d made love. That morning before Nick’s shift…the shift that never happened. Since then they’d made out; they’d hugged - quite a lot - but as far as he knew Nick hadn’t even had an erection, since…it didn’t happen. Not even a morning erection. Nick had ceased to function properly in every aspect of his life. On the other hand. Gil hadn’t been much better than that, either.

Gil sat down on the edge of the bed. The tee shirt still grasped firmly. He then lay down; fully clothed, and slept. He didn’t dream a dream he could remember. He awoke suddenly but didn’t know why. He was still clutching the tee and his fingers ached. When he looked at the alarm clock he had to blink and shake his head and look again. He’d slept for seven hours. The longest stretch, in one go…since… 

He had to get ready for work. The house was silent; but he checked the main rooms and looked out of the window onto the drive. No Nick. No truck. He checked his cell; there were several messages, but not one from Nick. He breathed deeply. He was pretty sure Nick would turn up for work, he had never unnecessarily missed work; he was dependable.

Gil busied himself getting ready, he made himself eat and drink, but it was hard to swallow. He tried not to think anything. He took a scalding hot shower. Under the water he made a decision. He would call Nick just to see how he was…just to check…just to hear his voice.

When he was dried and dressed he speed dialled Nick’s cell. It was turned off and went to messaging. Nick’s voice was no longer on the message. Gil waited for the anonymous woman to finish and then said a few words. He’d rehearsed them.

“Nick. I’m going to work in a little while...if you want me to bring anything for you, you’d better get back to me; if not, I’ll see you later. Errr…see you.” Gil had wavered at the end. He’d wanted to say, ‘I love you’. ‘Please come back’. ‘Don’t leave me’. ‘Please, don’t leave me’. ‘We can work it out’. 

He knew he probably wouldn’t say any of those things….not one…not once… 

There was no call. Gil went to work, nearly on time. He checked the assignments. No big crimes tonight. Yet. 

In the briefing room Catherine wanted to know where Nick was.

“He won’t be in tonight.” Gil guessed. “So we’re a man down. Lucky, there’s not too much going on at the moment.”

“Is he okay?”

The look Gil gave her, raising his eyebrows, spoke volumes. He wasn’t going to say. But did she really think that Nick. His Nick. Their Nick. Was okay? 

“A burglary up in Henderson, Catherine.”

No one else made a comment.

Gil called Nick’s cell again... It was still switched off. Gil left another message. 

“Nick. Nicky. I…we, need to know where you are. Can you call?”

Gil sat around. He picked up half a dozen folders he should have been working on and put each down with hardly a glance; he watched the hand of his clock move around minute by minute. For two hours. It was over eleven hours since Nick had walked out of their home and he didn’t do that sort of thing. Well: he’d never done it before.

He sat back and thought about where Nick could be. He had absolutely no idea. Did he really know so little about Nick? He did know things; he knew he did, for four years they’d done everything together. Their friends were mutual friends and there weren’t that many, most of them were at work, here tonight.

The gym was closed; he’d called. No relatives in Vegas. No other friends…unless Nick did have some that Gil didn’t know. Pre-happening, Gil knew. Post…he wasn’t so sure.

Jim walked into his office as he was trying to come up with an idea. Any idea.

“What’s going on?” Jim wasn’t about to pussyfoot around. He knew both men, well. 

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t give me that…”

“….it’s the truth. I have absolutely no idea where Nick is…he walked out this morning.”

“What have you done about it?” Jim was concerned and his tone of voice puzzled Gil.

“What do you mean, what have I done?”

“Have you tried to find him?”

“I called the gym…it’s closed. And…well…nothing.”

“Jesus, Gil, you’re a piece of work, you know that? What time did he go and have you thought about where he could go?”

“It’s been nearly twelve hours, he just walked out…we had a…an exchange of words. I haven’t heard from him; I thought he didn’t want to speak to me.”

“Oh, God. Gil. Gil. Nick’s been hanging on by his fingernails; he walks out twelve hours ago and doesn’t show up for work. When was the last time Nick did anything like that?”

Gil looked up at Jim’s face. He saw the worry etched on the features. “Never.”

“Exactly. Did he take his truck? Have you tried calling him?”

“Yes.” Gil felt foolish. He also felt very sick. He was swallowing, trying to stop his gag reflex. What the fuck had he done? What the fuck had he done to Nick? Nick. He got up from his seat and ran from the room. 

Jim, startled, followed as Gil just made it to a stall and vomited. He wet some paper towels and handed them to Gil. “Come on. Let’s go find him.”

Gil nodded. He swilled his mouth at the sink and wiped his face and neck over with another towel. He looked at his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. He looked like a stranger to himself. He saw Jim in the reflection, standing behind him. Jim looked disgusted; and Gil knew he had every right to be so.

“His truck. GPS. Archie.” At least Gil knew what to do now.

Jim nodded and turned on his heels and Gil followed him directly to Archie’s lab. Archie had all the GPS systems up for the lab personnel. 

“Pull up Nick’s GPS, Archie. Let’s see if we can locate him.”

“Oh. Right.” Archie knew better than to ask questions when Gil was in this mood. He did as instructed and within two minutes had the appropriate system running. No bleep.

“Search wider.” Gil instructed and so that’s what he did. Over the next few minutes Archie tracked Nick’s signal, without success. Gil had him widening a circle around Vegas. The signal was always active, it was a PD directive, whatever the truck and driver were doing. So Gil reasoned that if Nick had driven off and maybe kept driving, he might be some distance from Vegas. It was just a hunch.

At a steady fifty miles per hour, Nick could have driven six hundred miles; if he was driving faster then he could have gone even further. He might not have stopped; he had a full tank of fuel.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the lab the bleep activated. A steady bleep made its rhythmic voice heard. Gil inhaled deeply.

“Where? Where is he?” He whispered the question to Archie.

“Errr. Arizona. East of Phoenix.” Archie typed into his computer and then said. “...the Apache trail, he’s on the old Apache trail, by Apache Lake. The truck’s stationary at the moment.”

“How far is that from here?” Phoenix; the thought he’d had that morning about Nick rising out of the ashes, came to mind. 

Archie did some more tapping. “329 miles, as the crow flies, but by road…372.”

“Right.” Jim walked out of the lab and headed back to Gil’s office. He picked up Gil’s phone and called the LVPD control room. “This is Captain Brass. I need the PD office closest to the Apache trail in Arizona, now…one that’ll be open. I’ll wait.”

Gil had followed, after telling Archie to keep Nick’s signal on all the time, and let him know if it moved. Why on earth Nick was in Arizona, on a trail, by a lake, he had no idea. It was not somewhere he’d ever been, and to his knowledge, neither had Nick. He thought he knew Nick; but he didn’t know much about Nick, not really. Not when he thought about it; really thought about it.

Jim was standing very still while waiting for a response. Gil watched him and wondered at his ability to be so still; he used it to great affect when he interviewed victims and suspects alike. He wondered how Jim could see through Nick and he, his lover for four years, missed it all; ignored it all? 

Jim speaking made Gil jump. “Right. Thanks.” Jim made a note on Gil’s pad, and ending the call to the PD he immediately dialled the number he’d written down.

“Hello there. Captain Jim Brass, Las Vegas PD. Look, we’ve got a situation here; one of our own, you know what I’m saying?” 

Gil listened as Jim explained what had happened and what he would like the Phoenix PD to do. And they agreed; nothing like a bit of empathy for an officer in trouble.

It was just on the edge of their jurisdiction, so they were lucky, but they’d got a car that could be there in, maybe, thirty minutes. The officers could use their cells to call Jim from the ‘scene’. Jim’s blood ran cold when he heard that word used.

So they had to wait. Jim got coffees for them both and sat down with Gil to wait. 

“You know, I used to think you two got on pretty well for a couple of guys. Never could quite grasp the gay thing, but, whatever. What the fuck happened, Gil? And don’t say Walter Gordon, because somewhere along the line this has become a lot more. He might have started it but it’s…”

“…me, Jim, I’ve let it run away from me…Nick needed more; more than I could give. I…well you know me. You know I was bowled over by Nick when he walked through the doors the first time and it still took me another two years to even admit it to myself and then… You know we’ve got along pretty well; but it’s always been Nick…in the driver’s seat, as it were. Keeping the relationship going. I wanted it; don’t get me wrong, but…I haven’t worked at it, I’ve relied on Nick to make it work.” Gil was silent for a minute or two and Jim let him be.

“Even now…well, up to the abduction anyway, I’d still forget things…or put them to the back of my mind because I was doing something interesting, at that moment. I’d forget he’d done dinner. I’d forget we were going out. He never complained…well, not as much as perhaps he should have done… He accepted me the way I am…was. And I took that from him, but never gave it back. Never.”

A longer silence this time and Jim could see from Gil’s face that he was about to hear a revelation. And judging from the look, not a good one. Jim sat stock still. This was a confession; it crossed his mind that Gil was in the wrong place for absolution. Gil was right. He’d not worked at the relationship, he was just fucking lucky that Nick put up with him. His peccadilloes. Perhaps that was why he’d never had a successful relationship before Nick; no one would put up with him. He smiled a wry smile to himself. He was one to talk. 

“When he was abducted and I met you at the scene, do you know what I thought, Jim?” 

This was it; Gil looked close to cracking up. “No.”

“What the fuck’s he done; I can do without this, I’ve got enough work as it is…”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. I started the investigation off irritated that it was Nick’s fault. An inconvenience; I was supposed to love him…”

“…don’t you love him?”

This was the moment Gil broke. He tried biting his bottom lip, hard; he tried taking a few breaths, but it didn’t help. He put a hand up to cover his eyes and bent his head forward as a soulful sob escaped him. He didn’t speak. He didn’t try to speak; he just sobbed. 

It was a few minutes later when he was in control enough to look up to Jim. He reached over his desk to where a box of tissues lay and pulled a bunch out. He wiped at his face and nose.

“I have NEVER loved anyone as much as I love Nick. But; you know what, Jim? I've never told him that, I’ve said I loved him, but never quite managed to tell him how much. Jesus H. Christ. Jim, I’ve fucked him up as much…if not more than, Walter Gordon.”

“Ha. Well, I am prepared to believe that you could be a bastard, and that Nick deserves a medal for putting up with you, but that is an exaggeration. Nick was always willing to put up with you and he would have continued, you both would, in your merry little, whatever works for you, life. Walter Gordon was in another league. I think what Nick has endured…would test the most solid of relationships. I think, Gil, and I’ve never said this to you, but you are…hell…we all are, very lucky to have Nick. He should be dead. I’d have used the gun.”

Gil nodded; his face a picture of abject misery. “There have been times, Jim, when I think Nick wished he had.”

Jim nodded. That didn’t surprise him.

They sat together in silence. Both men thinking of the horror that Nick endured in the coffin. Neither man could actually contemplate, sufficiently, the actual horror. Their reverie was interrupted by the shrill ring of Gil’s desk ‘phone. Gil pressed the conference button and Jim spoke.

“Brass.”

“Hello there, Captain Brass, this is Officer Lee Jenkins, with my partner, Dave Ford. We’re in the car park on the side of the lake and we can eyeball the truck. It’s parked up in the corner. What are your instructions?”

“The usual. Approach with caution. Be careful, but this is our man. Okay?”

“You got it. I've got a cell ear piece in, so you should hear it all.” They heard him say to his partner, presumably, ‘give it a blast’. The sound of the siren echoed over the phone into Gil’s office.

“We’re going in now, sir, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life.”

Gil gasped and sat back in his chair, his hands rubbing down his face at the horror of the innocent remark. They could hear the officer shouting, ‘Hello. Police. Show yourself’. 

“There’s no response and there’s no one sitting in the vehicle that we can see. We’re approaching the driver’s side now. There’s no one in the driver’s seat and no one in the passenger seat….there is a figure on the back seat, lying down.”

Gil wanted to vomit again. But he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.

“Hello. Police. Show yourself.” These were louder shouts. “Hey there, come on, vacate the vehicle, Sir.” In a softer aside he said. “There’s a guy in the back seat and he’s moving, he’s seen us…he’s unlocking the door…moving around a bit…come on, Sir, out of the vehicle. Keep your hands up in the air where I can see them, all the time, slowly does it…slowly…”

Gil and Jim were hardly breathing; both men leaning, unconsciously, towards the phone.

“Please state you name.”

And then, although it seemed from a long distance they heard a very familiar voice, frightened and alone; Gil’s tears just ran down his face as he soundlessly cried for joy.

“Nick Stokes. I’m Nick Stokes. I’ve got ID…I work for LVPD…Las Vegas…CSI.”

Jim spoke to Officer Jenkins. “That’s him officer, that’s his voice.”

“Affirmative. Mr Stokes we’ve been sent to get you by LVPD and I believe there’s someone here who wishes to speak to you.” Jim and Gil heard a shuffling noise and thought the officer was disconnecting his ear piece to give his cell to Nick. And then….

“Hello? Gil?” A very weak and uncertain voice spoke on the line. Gil, couldn’t speak, he was sobbing silently into his hands. Relief. Guilt. In equal amounts, coursing through him.

“It’s Jim here, Nick. Hey, you okay?” Jim’s voice sounded warm and kind.

“Yeah…oh, man…I’m sorry…I don’t….” Nick was breaking up, not the connection, the man.

“Hey Nicky, now don’t you worry you’ve got nothing to be sorry about…nothing, you got that?”

“But…I…I should be working.”

“Don’t worry, okay, we got it covered. We gonna get you back here and take care of you.”

“I can drive…”

“Noooo. No Nick, we’re gonna pick you up and take care of you.”

“I want to come back, Jim. But…” Nick was very obviously crying now. “…but I don’t think Gil wants me back now…he doesn’t…he doesn’t…want me…I’m so screwed…”

Gil’s wail must have been heard in the lab. “Oh, sweetheart. I want you so much, Jesus, if only I’d told you just how much I want you…I’m coming to get you, my love…you stay put, I’m coming to get you.”

“Gil?”

“It’s me, Nick…”

“I wanna get better…I know I said…but I do…I really do…I mean that, I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, sweetheart, I know you do and do you know what, you’re already on the way to getting better now…I know you are. Nicky? I love you. So much. Much more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my whole life. You know that?”

“You do? Even when I’ve been…”

“You’ve been wonderful, Nicky. And I’m going to take care of you and you’re going to get better.”

“You’re coming to get me?”

“I am. You go with the officers now and I’m going to come and get you from Phoenix. Okay?”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“That’s okay then.”

“Yes. That’s okay then.”

The End


End file.
